Training Days: Just Like A Video Game
by Nikolaos
Summary: The plane is going down and Clint Barton is alone, his choice would be to grab the parachute and jump. Coulson though wants him to land the thing as a crashing plane means dead civilians. Trouble is, Hawkeye doesn't know how to fly. Not yet anyway. This is how Clint got his first lesson in piloting.


**AN: There are a couple of references in this one shot relating to the other Training Days and Looking for Hawkeye. However, you do not need to read those to understand/enjoy this fic. They are there for your own perusal if you wish. Warnings naturally I know nothing and I also know nothing about planes, cars or computers. If there is any glaringly obvious faults that really bug you, let me know and I'll attempt to fix it. As always your thoughts and opinions are always appreciated and beware of Barton's potty mouth. Enjoy!**

**.**

**-SHIELD-**

**.**

Clint groaned as he pushed himself up to his feet, staggering as the jet shuddered again threatening to throw him to the floor for a second time. Moving his way to the cockpit he called out to the pilot.

"Jenson? What-" Clint trailed off as he saw the very dead pilot, the controls in front of him a jumbled mess with shrapnel embedded in his chest and face. "Shit."

Clint walked back into the main cabin looking around. He needed an exit and he needed one now. Parachute, parachutes were good.

_"Quebec-Juliet-one-niner, this is control. Come in Quebec-Juliet-one-niner."_ Clint looked back to the cockpit to where he could hear the voice coming over the radio. Groaning he stormed back to the cockpit, ignoring how one side of the dash was steadily sparking. After looking at all the buttons he pushed the one he thought was for the mic.

"Control this is Quebec-Juliet…fuck! Give up the stupid radio speak, this is Barton and this bird is doomed, I'm jumping out. Come get me," Clint punched the mic button again signalling control that he'd signed off. Walking back to where he'd dropped the parachute he was abandoning ship.

_"Barton, it's Coulson. Don't jump! Barton? Do you hear me, do not jump from that jet."_

Clint groaned again as the jet shuddered again and sent him careening off his feet, slamming heavily into the metal bulkhead , his head smacking the bench.

_"Barton? Answer me Barton."_

Groaning Clint pushed himself up to his feet, swiping his forehead when he felt the warm sensation of blood across his skin. Hissing when his fingers touched an open wound. He flicked his hand clean of the fluid and moved to the cockpit again. Punching the mic button for the third time.

"Coulson, why the fuck am I not allowed off this fucking bumper car?" Clint heard the sigh of relief from Coulson which was the only indication that the older agent had been worried about him.

_"Barton, there is a malfunction with the internal computer on board the Quinn Jet. Where's Jenson?"_

"Jenson's dead. Again, why can't I jump?"

_"Control is currently locked out of the mainframe and therefore can't access any of the on-board controls-"_

"Still not seeing the issue of me abandoning ship," interrupted Clint as the jet shuddered again.

_"Barton, you're currently circling Chicago. You're altitude is steadily getting lower and lower but your speed means that when that bird hits ground it'll explode and kill hundreds of people."_

"So let me jump and blow it out of the sky, the debris-"

_"Will land all across the city, still killing people,"_ sighed Coulson.

"So what the fuck do you want me to do?" snapped Clint. Six months with SHIELD and he was going to die a horrible death all because they relied on computers way too much. It wasn't the first time which he thought back to that day that he got into Coulson's car and thought maybe he should have just kept running.

_"I need you to fly the Quinn Jet,"_ sighed Coulson.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I don't know how to fly this thing!" snapped Clint.

_"I've got Walker here with me, she's going to talk you through it."_

_"Hi Barton,"_ said a female voice coming over the line. "_Don't worry, it's just like playing all those video games you kids are fond of."_

Clint laughed as the jet shuddered again before there was a sudden drop in altitude, slamming him into the pilot's seat. "She's kidding right? Coulson, tell me she's kidding?"

_"Trust Walker-"_

"I've never played a video game in my life!"

_"Woah, but you're like twenty, what kind of millennial-"_

"First off lady, I'm twenty-two. Second, I spent most my life in a tent that didn't have running water, let alone electricity," growled Clint.

_"Barton, calm down. It's just like any other training scenario,"_ soothed Coulson.

"Yeah, except this one ends up with my fiery death!"

_"Dramatic much!"_ laughed Walker. "_Chill Barton, I'll get you safely on the ground and afterwards I'll buy you a beer and you can tell me all about life in the twenty-first century without mod-cons."_

"This is un-real," muttered Clint as the jet shuddered again. This time it lasted longer than before, the electronics in front of Jenson's body, crackled more and sparks flew up towards Clint's own face. "Fine, if we're gonna do this then let's do this. Don't think this metal death trap will be in one piece for much longer."

Clint sat himself down in the co-pilot seat. Looking wide-eyed at the amount of buttons and levers in front of him. Out of all the books he'd read, he's never picked one up on piloting. He didn't even have a theoretical knowledge on this. Why would he? He's never enjoyed flying, the idea of being so far above the ground and not being able to see where he was going did not appeal to him.

_"Alright Barton, are you sitting comfortably?"_ asked Walker over the radio. Clint scowled at the woman he couldn't see. Whoever this woman was, she seemed the perpetually cheery type. It was irritating.

_"Right, you need to switch the controls over to your side of the bird."_ Walker described the button and told him how to activate it. The lights in front of Clint seemed to glow brighter as he was granted control. _"Right, you're on autopilot right now. We need to switch to manual."_

"What?" asked Clint in alarm.

_"It's fine. Think of the Quinn jet like a car, you drive don't you?"_

"Since I was twelve," growled Barton.

_"Okay, I'll buy you two beers if you tell me that story too. What twelve year old knows how to drive but never played a video game? Did you grow up in a commune? Or a cult?"_

Barton scoffed, "Try circus."

_"Okay then. Back to my beautiful car analogy. You're currently jerking around like a bucking bronco 'cause you're in the wrong gear. Stick shift's do that kangaroo jump thing when the gear is too high for the speed right, this is similar."_

"Now, I know this is bullshit," huffed Barton. Driving a car was nothing like this metal death trap.

_"Just go with me on this. The bird is damaged and there are too many functions running to give you a smooth ride, so we've got to switch some of them off. The autopilot being one of the biggest draw of computing power."_

"Fine, so how do we do this?"

Walker laughed slightly before she told him where the button for the autopilot was. _"Okay, I'm watching the footage of you flying, ease your grip up on the yolk, your holding too tight and jerking the direction about. Relax, think like your caressing a beautiful woman. Gentle touch."_

"This '_beautiful woman_' is gonna crush me to death if I lose control," growled Barton. Though he did ease up his grip as his hands were cramping slightly.

_"That's better,"_ confirmed Walker. "Now we need to actually fly this bird in a straight line and get it away from the city." Barton grumbled but didn't comment as he listened to Walker's instructions, following them step by step. Maybe if the situation wasn't so dire, flying might not be so bad.

"Fuck!" growled Barton as the jet gave a sudden violent shudder, the altitude dropping significantly as more sparks flew from the console.

_"Barton? Talk to me Barton,"_ called Walker.

_"Barton, what's going on?"_ asked Coulson coming on the line for the first time since Walker started giving instructions.

"I now know what it feels like to be a burrito in a microwave," growled Clint as he tapped his sleeve to put out the flame on his jacket. Pulling the garment off him, he chucked the now crispy material on the ground. Looking at the console, Clint could see that his altitude was dropping a lot more steeply now. "Okay, we have another problem."

_"Talk to me Barton,"_ called Walker.

"I've just lost the engines."

_"What? That's not possible, I mean-"_

_"Can you re-start them?"_ asked Coulson cutting off Walker's rant.

"Yeah, let me just kick the damn thing. I mean it works with any other computer," growled Barton. "What part of, I've no fucking clue did you guys on the ground not get?"

_"Alright Barton, its fine,"_ said Walker cutting in. _"You've still got plenty of time before you hit the ground in-"_

_"Walker!"_ snapped Coulson.

_"What I meant to say was, you just need to glide the Quinn Jet over Lake Michigan and then you can bale out. No casualties."_

_"You can do this Barton,"_ encouraged Coulson.

"Well I don't have much choice, do I," growled Barton as he took back control of the yolk.

_"You're doing good Barton, just keep her steady,"_ said Walker. "_You should be able to see the lake in front of you now."_

"Yeah, been seeing it for a while. So you going to tell me when to bale?"

_"You're not low enough yet,"_ sighed Coulson. _"You keep going at that speed, the jet will fly right over and then hit land."_

"And?"

_"Civilians Barton, remember the civilians."_

"Okay, so saving the people, what do you need me to do?"

There was a pause over the radio, "Guys? What's the issue?"

_"We don't have another bird in the air that'll get there in time for you to bale and then blow the jet up while it's still over the water. So we need you to put it in the lake yourself."_

"What? No!"

_"Barton-"_

"Coulson, I am not your Captain fucking America. Who FYI died doing this stunt. I am not going down with this ship. Whatever made you think I was a self-sacrificing asshole? Fuck the civilians!"

Clint stood up and got out of the chair, walking back towards where he'd left the parachute. The jet tilted dramatically.

"_Barton, you're going off course!"_ shouted Walker. _"You travel further and you could hit a school."_

Clint groaned as he turned back to the co-pilot seat and grabbed the yolk, tilting the jet slightly so he could see the lake in the not so far distance anymore.

_"Barton-"_

"Shut up Coulson," growled Clint as he stared at the horizon. The radio went silent, both Coulson and Walker giving the younger agent a moment. "Fuck this," he muttered to himself.

Barton slipped off his belt and grabbed his discarded jacket from the floor, tying them together and then attaching it to the yolk and the chair, so that it didn't move too much.

_"Barton, what-"_

"I need the code to the arms locker, specifically the C4," interrupted Clint as he strapped on the parachute.

_"10359,"_ answered Coulson. _"What are you planning?"_

"You can't shoot this hunk of metal down, then I'll just have to blow it up myself," grinned Clint.

_"Barton, the timing-"_

"Is gonna royally suck, but I can either go up in flames or drown. Not a fan of either-" 

_"Well, I think the impact of hitting the surface water would-"_

"Fuckin' hell Coulson where did you find this woman?" groaned Clint. "I do not need to know the exact details of how my demise could happen." Clint tapped in the code and pulled out the C4, then grabbed the detonator sticks. Pocketing the remote that would set them off, Barton grabbed the oxygen tanks from the medical bag and started opening the valve, while sticking the C4 and detonators to the walls.

_"Three beers on me if you actually pull this off, but your window is closing,"_ said Walker.

"Thank you Captain Obvious," huffed Clint as he punched the button to open the rear door. Nothing happened. Hitting it again, still nothing happened. Bowing his head he hit the button again. "You people and your fucking computers!"

_"Barton?"_

"One day, I bet there is going to be an army of robots all intent on destroying the world because some science nerd decided that computers were the answer," growled Clint as he chucked the parachute at the door.

_"I think you've seen too many movies,"_ laughed Walker.

_"What's wrong Barton?"_ asked Coulson, his concern ratcheting up a notch.

"I'm stuck on the plane and now the doors won't open, all because of a fucking computer," Clint gave a very un-amused chuckle at the end of the sentence. "You know how many times I thought I might die? Never thought it'd be 'cause I was stuck in a flying box.

"Did I ever tell you that I don't even like flying?"

_"No, you never said anything,"_ sighed Coulson. _"Look-"_

"Save it Coulson," interrupted Clint he looked back to the cockpit where he was so close to the water now it felt he could touch it. Turning to the oxygen tanks he turned them off while pulling out the detonator sticks. "Is Walker still there?"

_"Yeah, I'm here,"_ said the pilot softly.

"So flying is all about physics right?"

_"Err… yeah, I guess so,"_ she answered slightly confused.

"Right, so in theory if the back of the jet hit the water first, the likely outcome of my survival would be better?"

_"I guess, but, you don't have any power so you can't lift the nose up."_

"No, but I do have a shit load of equipment that is all equally spread out across this hunk of junk. If I move it all to the rear then the nose goes up."

_"That is-"_

_"Barton, you don't have time, what-"_

"Well it's either working the problem till I drop or I sit in a chair and talk to you till I die, and hell, you're no Peggy Carter," smirked Clint as he started unhooking all the bags and storage boxes from their places and throwing them down to the end of the plane.

"_You just filled that whole place with oxygen, one spark-"_

"Yeah, yeah, Barton gets flambéed," huffed Clint as he pulled out weapons boxes and tossed them down to the rear. Box after box got tossed, followed by the medical kit and the tanks.

_"You're out of time, Barton,"_ said Walker over the line. _"And you've raised the nose and inch, maybe."_

"Okay, well it was nice knowing you," shrugged Barton. "Make sure to put my obituary in Assassins Monthly."

_"Barton-"_

"No mushy stuff, Coulson. I'll see you on the other-"

"Barton? Barton?"

"He's hit the water," muttered Walker. "Rescue birds will be there in twenty minutes."

.

**-SHIELD-**

**.**

Cold. That was Clint's first thought, followed by he couldn't breathe. Snapping his eyes open he realised he was underwater. Seeing a light above him he kicked upwards until his head breached the surface and he gasped for much needed air. Sinking below the water line again, he kicked his feet to keep him a float. Looking around he saw debris from the jet floating around him. The tip of the rear of the plane was just sinking below the surface this moment. Laughing to himself, he couldn't believe that he'd actually survived that. He must have been thrown out of the cabin as the jet broke up. Miracles really do happen.

Looking around Clint tried to spot the nearest shoreline he needed to keep moving and swimming in a direction was the best bet for doing that. Slowly he started swimming towards land, thankful that after months of practice not being able to swim was no longer a problem, or a concern.

He didn't know how long it took him to swim to the shore but when his feet finally hit the floor, he only stumbled twice before he pulled himself onto the beach. Gasping for breath as he sat back on his haunches. Looking up at the sky as he heard the familiar sound of a SHIELD Quinn jet pass over. He watched as it circled a bit before landing behind the tree line. To get up or not to get up? Either way he'd have to move eventually. Pushing to his feet he stumbled up the beach and towards the trees. Where he was greeted by an agent he'd never met before and two medics.

Growling in response when the medic team tried to stop him and patch up the cut on his forehead.

"I am cold, not dying," he growled grabbing the wrist of the nearest medic, who was being insistent about touching his head wound.

"You heard the man, let's get back to the jet," smirked the agent as he led the way back the way he had come. Clint let go of the medic pushing past them and followed closely behind the agent, he gritted his teeth as he pushed himself forward. Ignoring his own shivering body and the hovering medical staff, knowing as soon as he sat down they would pounce on him.

"Agent Coulson, We've got your man," said the agent over the radio as they entered the jet. The agent turned back to Clint as he entered the back of the jet, looked him up and down before speaking into the radio again. "Barton is little banged up and cold but he appears fine."

Clint sat down in the closest seat and smirked. "You tell Coulson that his precious Captain America ain't got nothing on me. Near death experience? Walk it off."

The agent chuckled as he relayed the message and then told the pilot to take off.

.

-SHIELD-

.

**AN: Would love a review :-D**


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